The Canterbury Pilgrims eBook

While the priest toiled blowing the fire, the sweat
running down his face with the heat, the wily canon
drew out of his store a piece of beech wood.
In it he had made a cavity and inserted just an ounce
of silver shavings and stopped up the hole with wax.
Now understand, friends, here and hereafter, that
with foresight of what he meant to do, he had prepared
all his cunning tricks and appliances. Then with
feigned solicitude, “Sir priest,” he said,
“right well have you toiled, but still the fire
burns not quite right as yet. Let me try what
I can do. Wipe your face and rest you.”
The priest was only too glad of a rest, and while
he wiped his face the canon stirred the fire and placed
his piece of wood fairly over the mouth of the crucible.
Then as soon as the wood grew hot the wax melted—­as
needs it must—­and the silver fell down
into the vessel. “That is right now,”
said he; “let us rejoice and take a drink, for
all shall now be well.”

The priest was delighted, good innocent man, suspecting
nothing of the craft that was practised against him.
At length the canon said, “Come, let us go out
to get some clay, with which to make a mould for our
metal, and a bowl of water. I will go with you,
for I would not like you to think that I had played
any tricks with this wonderful art.” They
fetched the water and clay, the canon fashioned the
mould, poured in the metal and cast it into the water
to cool.

Now what had really happened was this. When mercury
is heated in a crucible—­as perhaps all
you gentlemen know, though in case you do not I must
tell you to make my story plain—­it changes
into a vapour like steam and disappears, but silver
only melts and does not change otherwise. So
when the canon poured out the contents of the crucible
into the mould, there was the silver all liquid and
ready, but the mercury was gone. Therefore in
the cold water the liquid silver changed into a lump
and was there for the priest to find, but the mercury
had disappeared. The canon knew all about this,
but the priest understood nothing and was just watching
in wonder. “Now, sir priest,” said
the canon, “put in your hand and see what you
can find.” The priest put in his hand and
drew out the lump of shining silver. “Ah,”
said the canon, “let us make trial yet again.
Once is scarce a complete proof, and I should like
you to understand this art thoroughly before we part.”

They took another ounce of the quicksilver and put
it in the crucible. The canon put in the powder
and arranged the fire, but this time he had his silver
shavings hidden in a long cane of which the end was
stopped with wax as before. He made pretence to
stir the fire. “It burns not as brightly
as it should,” he said, “but I will make
the flames leap up.” And so, as he poked
it, he melted the wax and let the silver fall into
the crucible. Once more they poured the metal
into the mould and again the priest drew out a lump
of silver. “Yet a third time we will try,”
said the canon, “and this time we will not use
quicksilver but copper. Send your servant for
an ounce of it.”